


Sing a Song of Sixpence

by twosidedcoin



Series: the evil triplet [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gen, Honorary Duck Family Member Webby Vanderquack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twosidedcoin/pseuds/twosidedcoin
Summary: The search for the missing triplet continues, but sometimes what's lost comes back on its own. And other times it's just stolen all over again.





	Sing a Song of Sixpence

Webby was glaring.

Louie sort of wished he was the one glaring because it was such a mood. Uncle Donald had banished the three of them upstairs to work on Louie Incorporated because he was still cautious about looking for the two children he lost all those years ago.

( _Stolen, Louie. Your brothers were stolen, and you’re lucky Uncle Donald was able to save you at all._ )

Louie risked a glance at Huey, who had a dented Junior Woodchuck Guidebook Louie thinks was once Uncle Fethry’s. He had offered his help in the company, which Louie had eagerly accepted but Huey was smart and thorough and all his work was piled in a neat completed stack at his side ready for Webby and Louie to comb through and triple check for any mistakes.

Even though Louie knew there wouldn’t be, but Huey found security at being critiqued in a way that wasn’t strictly negative. Louie didn’t mind. Whatever helped put his usual skittish brother at ease. Webby, on the other hand, was currently burning a hole through Louie’s skull.

“Yes Webbigail?” Louie asked without looking up, earning Huey’s attention.

He didn’t set aside the guidebook, held it closer to his chest like a shield. Afraid of the fallout that was approaching, and Louie made a mental note to scale the impending argument considerably as he finally caught Webby’s glare with one of his own.

Webby was dressed in black, no doubt in preparation for the search they had planned to conduct today for Huey and Louie’s missing brother. Dewford, the piece of paper Webby found what’s felt like ages ago, called him. Unfortunately Huey had gotten a little overexcited and let it slip to Uncle Donald who had in turn sent them upstairs, and since Webby couldn’t glare at Huey she glared at him.

Louie didn’t mind as much as he used to. He still didn’t _like_ it, but anything to keep Huey away from bad days. The ones where he looks impossibly small and broken, beaten and scared of everything. Louie hated those days the most, and he knew Webby did too.

“We shouldn’t be in here,” Webby proclaimed, “We should be out _there_. Looking for him.”

“Yeah,” Huey agreed oblivious to the reason they’d been sent upstairs, “You two found me. We _have_ to find him. There’s no telling what he’s been through.”

Louie agreed. He did- his dreams terrifying him more and more each night because whereas the ones about Huey had been mostly dark and cold, Dewford’s was bright and electric and Louie always woke from them aching terribly.

Dewey (Huey’s idea- the rhyming scheme bringing him comfort, and Louie couldn’t really tell his brother no to anything) needed them to find him while he was still alive, and each night Louie fell asleep scared for what each dream will bring him. He was a thousand times more terrified to not having a dream, though. Fearful of the day he woke up and realized they’ve wasted too much time, and there was no more Dewey to find.

So Louie understand the urgency, but he also got how Huey was still fragile. His good days had stretched for longer durations, but that only made the bad ones worst and Louie was dreading the next approaching bad day.

“What would you have me do?” Louie challenged, voice calm and eyes sharp, “Give our poor overprotective uncles a heart attack?”

Webby’s eyes flickered over to Huey before back to Louie as she shrugged and proposed, “I’ll go out today. I know the plan, and I’ll stick to the route. You two can stay here and cover for me.”

And Louie appreciated at just how much Webby seemed to care about Louie’s brothers. Even before she met them they were as important to her as they were to Louie, and Louie was grateful. Louie just also couldn’t stand thinking of a world without Webby in it.

“Absolutely not,” Louie declared, “It’s-”

“What? Too dangerous?” Webby challenged with a smirk and crossed arms.

Louie sighed and settled, “Risky. It’s too risky. Uncle Donald would flip his lid if he discovered you missing.”

“Which is why you two stay behind to cover for me,” she tried, pressing though with less fury than before; she got the message.

 _You’re_ _important_ _too._

“And if we can’t?” Louie challenged because the only way to protect Webby was threatening to shut the whole operation down- like Louie ever would.

Webby shrugged and responded, “I believe you’ll come up with something. You’re both smart and, besides, your uncle isn’t trying to stop you from finding Dewey. He loves Huey and is happy to have him back. He’s just as equally as terrified to loose either of you.”

“I know,” Louie promised, “but this isn’t the Beagle Boys. Whomever took Dewey is _dangerous_.”

Webby’s spine tensed and the next words sounded like an accusation, “The dreams have returned.”

Every day since Huey’s return. Louie had just neglected in telling them as much because the dreams leave Louie with a pain that burrowed its way under the skin like rot underneath tree bark. He didn’t think of anyone he knew who could live with that much pain all the time.

“ _Louie_ ,” she chided, betrayed as her eyes relit with new fury.

Huey was staring at him, face dropped in shock and concern and Louie didn’t like ignoring his brother but he set his expression and stared straight ahead.

“ _Webby_ ,” he replied dryly.

“I’m going,” she decided, “and when I come back you’re going to tell me about them.”

She slipped out the window, neither Louie nor Huey moving to try and stop her. Huey was too busy eyeing him cautiously, like Louie was the one who was in danger of falling apart. Louie ignored him and prayed the days they spent searching for Dewey were numbered.

&.

Webby returned with a downcast expression and shook her head before taking the spot next to Huey to start combing through his numbers. Louie swallowed thickly and resumed his work.

That night he dreamt of Duckburg.

&.

It was Huey who found Dewey, and it was by complete accident. Or, at least, Dewey probably wants Huey to believe it was an accident, but Huey was clever enough to pick up on the ruse. Not as clever or smart as Louie or Webby of course, but Huey knew at least that much.

Huey had offered to go to the bank with Uncle Donald, wanting out of the mansion and giving Louie and Webby some space. Uncle Donald had beamed at him, unaware.

It had been Uncle Donald’s turn, Huey fumbling with the guidebook he found, when a tall man with glossy brown fur and floppy ears waltzed in like he owned the place. At his side were two shorter figures, and at their hips were long sharp swords that immediately drew the gaze.

“Huey,” Uncle Donald said, evidently noticing the strangers as well and he reached out to grab onto his arm but Huey’s mind was spinning.

What were pirates doing at the bank?

They’ll come for you Huey. If you’re a bad boy then they’ll come for you, and they’ll take you away and no one will care.

Huey clamped his hands over his ears, trying to drown out Ma Beagle’s voice when a hand caught his arm and jerked him over and down. Behind one of the counters and out of sight of the pirates, who were now demanding everyone’s attention.

“Relax mate,” a face that resembled his own said softly, “You’ll give yourself a panic attack.”

Too late.

The room was spinning, and Huey couldn’t breathe. Uncle Donald was gone, in his place was Ma’s twisted features the moment before she slammed it in his face- drowning him in darkness. Her words echoing in the small space.

Dewey- because there was no one else he could be- reached out to catch Huey’s wrist, jerking him back to the present. His face wasn’t unkind, but not near as soft as Louie’s could get.

“You need to calm down,” Dewey told him as he peeked over the counter, “Don has been itching for a reason for a fight all week. Let’s not give him one.”

Huey did feel a bit calmer next to Dewey- something no one else has seemed to have been able to accomplish- as he accused, “You’re a sky pirate.”

Dewey’s smile wasn’t harsh or mean or even angry. He shrugged, glanced back over the counter and something in his expression shifted. Grew concerned and Huey could only think of one thing to get him to look that way.

He scrambled up in time to catch sight of the leader- Don- latch onto the front of Uncle Donald’s suit and giving him a sharp shake. Uncle Donald didn’t shrink away or act afraid, but Huey felt enough terror consume him for the both of them.

“No!” he screamed, rushing from his hiding place and he wasn’t sure what his plan was but it was soon stopped by a hand on the back of his shirt as another pirate lifted him upwards, chuckling darkly.

“Huey!” Uncle Donald shouted, pupils shrinking.

“This one is kind of cute,” the pirate teased, “Look at him. He’s terrified. Hey Bait, this what kind of expression you make when you’re scared?”

Huey risked a glance towards his brother, surprised to find him glaring. Uncle Donald’s shark intake of breath behind him indicated he’d looked as well and was probably as floored at seeing the missing triplet standing several feet away. He was right there, and there was nothing any of them could do about it.

“You’ve had your fun,” Dewey said, “Let them go.”

“You challenging your captain, boy?” Don growled, promise of darkness and pain flickering in his voice and just the sound of it turned Huey’s blood to slush and bones to ice.

Dewey didn’t look bothered.

“I got the message,” Dewey said before his eyes shifted to Huey and the fear must have been conveyed on his face because Dewey beamed brighter than the sun as he noted, “Pretty crummy first chance meeting, huh?”

He emphasized the word _chance_ , like it had been an accident. A coincidence fate had played out when this was so obviously planned. If by no one else than by the Don guy still holding onto a glowering Uncle Donald.

So Huey didn’t reply. He just continued staring down at the stranger with his face trying to figure out what was going on inside Dewey’s head. He was so much different than Louie- eyes and face seemingly more open and warm, but there was a hard edge to him that Louie lacked.

“Alright Dewdrop,” Don decided and that was the only warning Huey got before he was dropped back on the ground.

Uncle Donald was soon at his side, holding him protectively to his chest but his eyes were locked on Dewey. And Uncle Donald was tense, like he very badly wanted to reach out and draw him to his chest as well but couldn’t, and they all knew it.

Dewey smiled at them in a way that almost seemed supportive before he moved to follow the lumbering pirates out of the bank. It wouldn’t be later- much later, while he was lying next to a snoring Louie staring up at the ceiling as he played the events over in his head- that he realized the pirates hadn’t stolen anything. That the bank hadn’t been the target.

It had been a message to Dewey.

&.

As it turned out, finding Dewey had never been the problem. Don Karnage and his crew was never about stealth. They were about fancy distractions and scare tactics that were actually pretty terrifying. Even the leader’s last name was enough to send goosebumps trailing along Louie’s arms.

But they had Dewey. They had his brother, and Louie had never been known for admitting defeat so easily. Especially not when the stakes were so high.

After the attack at the bank (which Huey refused to talk about other than give them the details of what had happened but Louie _knew_ was keeping him awake at night) the news was all over the pirates that arrived from the sky. It didn’t take much longer after that before Louie realized that Dewey wasn’t some random kid they were keeping around. He was important to, if no one else, Don. Who, incidentally, was the captain.

“So what’s the plan?” Webby asked him, meeting his gaze with one filled with an intensity that jolted down his spine.

She was still made about the dream thing, and it wasn’t like she’s never been mad at Louie for something. This was different. Louie had never felt so frazzled before. It’s like every time he pulls one way, fate pulls the other and now it’s sitting back and laughing. Mocking him for being unable to save Dewey.

Because Huey had been easy. Ma Beagle never really cared for him, had surrendered him as easily as he’d predicated, which was three nights sitting in the hospital because Huey had four broken ribs but _still_. Don wasn’t giving Dewey up without a fight and he was making sure everyone knew it.

Louie slumped in his seat and admitted, “I don’t know.”

Webby hummed, nodded and asked, “So that’s it then? I’d say two out of three isn’t that bad, after all. You have one more sibling than you thought, at least.”

Louie glared. He knew what she was doing, but he couldn’t help it. It’s almost as if ever since Dewey arrived in Duckburg the dreams have grown more intense and the phantom pains last long and leave him wanting to roll over and die. It was a new thing- something he was very eager on asking Dewey about whenever he got the chance.

Because he was saving his brother from that nightmare. He wasn’t sure how, unclear on when but he was going to and it was going to be soon.

That didn’t mean he wanted Webby or Huey anywhere nearby when he did.

So he schooled his glare and shrugged, “Maybe you’re right. I should be grateful I was able to recover Huey at all.”

It was Webby’s turn to glare, squinting her eyes suspiciously. Louie kept his expression passive, timer ticking in the back of his head.

He sat back up in his chair and admitted, “I’m very tired. I think I’m going to bed now.”

Webby raised her eyebrow and noted, “It’s only seven thirty,” which was true and should raise enough red flags on its own but there was an ache somewhere buried deep inside Louie’s bones that he could no longer shake.

_What’re they doing to you Dewey?_

“I’ll tell you about my dreams in the morning,” Louie bargained, playing his ace.

It worked, and he scrambled to his room. Huey was sitting on his bunk, feet tucked underneath him and Junior Woodchuck Guidebook opened in his lap. He glanced up at Louie’s entrance, and Louie must have looked as exhausted as he felt because he was quick to think of an excuse to leave. Louie almost felt bad about lying to them- keeping secrets from his family.

_You’re doing it to protect them. They won’t even notice._

But by morning, Louie was gone.

&.

There’s this spot Uncle Donald used to take Louie when he’d still been very young. It was by the ocean, a little ways from the marina and docks. Away from the world and if you closed your eyes it’s like you’re the only person in the world. Louie had always loved that spot growing up.

It was also the first place he’s ever officially met Dewey.

&.

“You’re very perceptive for our age.”

Dewey didn’t necessarily say it loudly, but it carried over the sounds of the waves crashing. Louie blinked at being caught so easily- had been so certain he’d been stealthy, like Webby had taught him.

Dewey still didn’t turn around as he added, “Yes. I’m talking to you Llewellyn. Come. Sit with me.”

Louie startled at his name, having grown to hate it more and more each time his brothers speak it. Like they’re some sort of strangers. He moved to obey his brother, though. Something inside Dewey’s voice demanding obedience.

“How’d you know-?” Louie started as he sat in the sand beside his brother.

“Your name?” Dewey finished for him, finally turning to face him.

And Huey had said that it had been so odd because it was their face with an old person’s eyes- and not just someone like Uncle Scrooge who has been around a long time and has seen things. It was someone who’s felt pain and loss and suffering. Far too much for someone so young.

Dewey smiled, all his features save for his eyes softening, as he said, “You know who I am. I figured it was in my benefit to learn who you are.”

Louie swallowed and said, “The bank.”

Dewey looked away and replied simply, “The red one surprised me. Ma Beagle must have really done a number on him.”

Louie blinked at him and noted, “You’ve done your homework.”

“I like to know about those who find interest in me,” Dewey explained, “and you- Llewellyn Duck- have been far too interested in me.”

“You’re my brother,” Louie protested.

Dewey rolled his head and corrected, “We share the same mother, but she’s gone too.”

Louie didn’t flinch at his words, but it was a close thing. Huey had seemed surprised at discovering he had a family outside Ma Beagle. Dewey seemed to have always known and was powerless to do anything about it. Instead he’d found a morbid sense of comfort in pretending like blood didn’t matter. That _family_ didn’t matter.

Louie hated that thought. Despised and rejected it and Dewey had said it like it was just simple fact. The hard truth of the world. It made Louie’s blood boil in a way it hasn’t since Ma Beagle put Huey in the hospital.

“I’m sorry it’s taken this long before anybody has come for you,” Louie apologized because it wasn’t Dewey’s fault, “but I’m here now, and I’m not giving up on you. I’ll never give up on you Dewey.”

Dewey blinked at him, looking tired and sad. Very, very sad.

“I really wish you hadn’t said that,” Dewey said, the last thing Louie remembered hearing before something pinched his neck.

He fumbled at the discomfort, body already tilting to the side. Dewey caught him before he could slump in the sand as Louie tried to remember how to breathe. Black spots smudged the corners of Louie’s vision, bugs swimming over his eyes.

Dewey gave him a soft expression even as shadows emerged over his shoulder. Louie shifted, tried to jump. Voice a soft croaking sound as he tried warning his brother, though he figured he already knew who they were.

Then everything was gone.

&.

Louie didn’t dream, and when he woke he was in the sky.

&.

Webby woke to Huey jumping on her in a wild panic. His pupils were blown, and he had lines under his eyes, and when she rolled over her clock read two in the morning. And she knew she should be as worried as Huey looked, but she was more annoyed than anything.

“Huey, what?” she asked as she started to sit upright.

Huey wiggled off her legs to give her room even as he said in one long consecutive sentence, “Louie’s gone.”

A rock dropped in Webby’s stomach as she leapt from her bed, already pulling a jacket over her shoulders. Huey followed, looking terrified, and she had to remind herself that Huey wasn’t like Louie. Louie was his whole world, and it wasn’t that he was emotionally weak. He was just sensitive, and now Louie was gone.

“It’s going to be okay,” Webby promised, turning back to him in hopes of reassuring Huey at least a little.

Huey’s strained expression hardened, turning to stone, as he ground out, “Don’t patronize me Webby. I’m not a child.”

She blinked, unaccustomed to being faced with such an expression. Louie usually kept his to himself, cards under his sleeves and Huey had tried to not be a bother. To not tell them when he wanted something or when something was wrong. Now he was every bit the angry force Louie’s told her stories about.

Webby opened her mouth but nothing came out. She wasn’t sure how to proceed, to make everything okay again which was okay because Huey did.

“He went after Dewey,” Huey told her, “and he would have returned regardless of how well it went. Which means he can’t. Which means they’ve taken him.”

He was a flurry of motion now, rushing out of her room. She hurried to catch up with him, still caught off-guard by this version of the meek child that’s been beaten and abused most of his life.

“So what do you have in mind?” Webby inquired when Huey didn’t head up the stairs to his shared room but instead the outside.

“I’m going to find someone who knows where my brothers have gone, and I’m going to get them both back,” Huey told her, every bit Louie’s older brother.

And Webby smirked at him, signaling that she had his back. Good or bad, whatever was to come they’d face together, and Don’s merry band of kidnappers would soon learn what happens when an immovable object is met with an unstoppable force.

&.

Before Louie was fully conscious he was aware of the world swaying unnaturally. Then he was blinking awake and met with four dark walls. There was a sliver carved in one of the walls, several feet above his full height and allowing the tiniest amount of light to trickle inside.

“You shouldn’t move so quickly,” a familiar voice beside him warned, “It’ll make you nauseous and then we’ll both have a poor time afterwards.”

Louie turned to find Dewey sitting next to him. He’d been stripped to his blue undershirt, revealing a beaded bracelet around his wrist. The beads looked to be some sort of wood- red oak perhaps- and had ancient carvings delicately written on each individual thing. He didn’t recognize the language, that always being more Webby’s thing, but it looked gaudy even to him.

Then Louie looked up and all thoughts of Dewey’s outfit were replaced by the darkening blossoms of the beginnings of a bruise spread across the left side of his face. And not just one or two either. It looked as if he’d been struck multiple times in quick succession.

Louie scrambled to his knees, flashing back to the first time he saw marks on Huey and hating the world for tormenting his brothers so much. They’ve done nothing to deserve it and yet.

Dewey caught him as the room spun, and he started to collapse. Louie pressed his forehead against Dewey’s chest, hearing the strength behind the thumping of his chest and wondering if he was strong enough for this.

“You shouldn’t have come for me,” Dewey whispering in his hair, “You should have smelt the trap.”

Louie hadn’t, but even if he had he knew it wouldn’t have mattered. Nothing was keeping him from Dewey, entire body itching every time he turned on the news and realized this was the closest he’s been to his brother and they never even met. His carelessness, as it turned out, was a mistake.

“Why would they hurt you though?” Louie protested, “It should have been me.”

Dewey’s hold around his wrists tightened as he shook his head and explained, “I’d disobeyed a direct order from my captain. My story always ended with me being thrown in here, but there’d still been hope for you. Scrooge’s mansion was the safest place you could have been.”

“ _Dewey-_ ”

“And you shouldn’t call me that,” Dewey told him, pulling him away, “Names mean you’ll get attached.”

Like a stray animal nobody wants around. Like Dewey could be anyone except Louie’s foolishly reckless older brother he’d tear the world apart for one brick at a time.

Dewey just leveled him with a look, reading his thoughts, and chided, “You don’t even know me Llewellyn. You don’t know the things I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt.”

“I don’t care-”

“Why? Because our mothers just so happened to be the same person? You didn’t even know I existed until two years ago when you started this search.”

Louie clicked his mouth shut as he narrowed a glare. It was almost like Dewey’s always been aware of just who he was and where he belonged, dangled in front of his face before it reared back and slapped him hard. Even before Louie even knew he had brothers Dewey’s been told. Been shown how successful and happy Louie was.

It made Louie sick.

Or perhaps that was the drug still floating in his system.

Either way he ended up curled away from Dewey, spitting out vile as his vision continued to blur. Dewey rubbed at the small of his back, and if Louie closed his eyes he could pretend it was Uncle Donald whenever he was younger. And not on a ship surrounded by pirates going who-knows-where.

But Dewey never pulled away. Not when the ground continued to vibrate beneath them. Not when Louie slumped pathetically, muscles going lax. He just held him up, softly humming a song Louie didn’t recognize.

It was comforting and Louie found himself leaning into his brother’s hold, and despite the circumstances Louie found himself hoping that this moment will never change. That he could just press himself against Dewey, eyes closed and listen to the soft sound of his brother’s voice.

Then the door swung open and two pirates Louie didn’t recognize filled what little space they had. Dewey’s hold on him tightened, but his face remained calm and unbothered. Louie shifted, trying to sit upright and look less defenseless. The room turned over on itself and if Dewey wasn’t still holding onto him then he’d probably have ended face first in his own sick.

“Pleasant dreams little dewdrop?” one of the pirates asked, sharp grins focused on Louie and those types of things didn’t usually bother Louie but something about it made ants creep along his skin.

Dewey’s hold on him shifted as he edged himself in front of Louie. Louie let himself fall back behind his brother but kept his hold on the tail of Dewey’s shirt.

“Every night away from you two is a pleasant one,” Dewey replied smoothly.

The smiles dropped and the one on the left- a tall woman with dark spiky hair and bright green eyes- took a hostile step forward. Dewey didn’t even tense as Louie’s stomach continued to turn in on itself- rather from the drugs or fear was yet to be decided.

“Easy Lux,” the man beside her warned, “Don’t want to go breaking Donnie-boy’s favorite toy.”

Heat swelled inside Louie’s gut. He was tired of his brothers being regarded as nothing more than objects- things that can easily be tossed. They were the most important things in his life right now, and he _wanted them back_.

Dewey seemed unfazed as he said darkly, “Yeah. Would hate for the reason I can no longer slip through small spaces to have to take my place. Perhaps you should remove my bracelet now. Keep from blood spilling on it.”

And both of their eyes flickered towards Dewey’s wrist, their faces losing several shades of color. Louie’s eyes moved to Dewey’s bracelet- the one made of wooden beads. The one Louie had previously pushed away all thoughts of the thing.

“Don wants to speak with you,” Lux relented, seemingly more passive at threat of donning Dewey’s bracelet, “and your little identical brother of yours.”

Dewey swallowed so loud that Louie could hear it from where he was still crouched, clutching at the back of his brother’s shirt in an attempt of grounding himself. The room just continued to sway, his stomach still a sour mess of twisted knots. He wasn’t sure he could move if he wanted to.

Dewey must have noticed because he tilted his head to the side and stalled, “I thought the captain was mad at me. For deflecting.”

The man crossed his arms and snarled sarcastically, “Maybe he wants to forgive you.”

Doubtful and from the look Dewey shared Louie knew he felt much the same. They were still prisoners, though, and in the end powerless to their fate.

“I’d love to see that,” Dewey said.

He rose to his feet, guiding Louie up as slow as they could under the guise of Dewey’s legs being asleep. The two pirates watched, not exactly patient but no longer pushing for them to hurry. Louie was grateful, leaning far too much on Dewey. He knew it was very important to be strong and not show any weaknesses in front of these people, but he was seeing triple and bile was creeping up his throat.

Dewey just held him to himself- strong enough for both of them. Louie set his head against Dewey’s chest- wanting to be the strong one. Wanting to protect Dewey from all the hardship he’s so obviously had to endure in his short lifetime. Wanting and couldn’t.

They were lead through the winding hallways upon Don Karnage’s ship. The two pirates seemed familiar with the halls as did Dewey, but for the most part Dewey kept hold of Louie. For that Louie was grateful because it was like his head forgot how his legs worked.

And just when Louie figured he got his limbs under control, they were surrounded by light. Dark smudges erupted in the corners of his vision, and his entire body went lax. He probably would have tumbled back down the stairs they just came from, but Dewey had anticipated it. He’d clung to him and carried his weight easily. His steps didn’t even falter, and the other two pirates leading them didn’t seem to notice.

They took them what could have only been the captain’s quarters. The door was an oversized oak with intricate red stained patterns carved into its surface. Something about it made Louie’s stomach roll, something apart from the drugs they’d given him, and then they opened it and Louie saw Captain Don Karnage for the first time.

Don didn’t look at him first- didn’t even look at him second. He was the last one Don allowed his gaze to focus on and, like the sight of him alone bored the captain as dark eyes flickered back over to Dewey.

“I’m disappointed in you Dewdrop,” Don said, voice bored and unpleasant.

Louie moved upwards, standing on his own. Dewey let him but didn’t release his sleeve which was fine because Louie had no intent of letting Dewey go ever again. Dewey’s face remained neutral, stubborn and refusing to give Don the satisfaction of getting to him.

Instead he said, “You’re always bothered Don.”

Anger flickered across the captain’s face. The other two pirates shuffling fretfully. They looked scared and if Don’s reputation was anything to go by then it was a lesson hard learned. Dewey just met Don’s look with one of his own.

Louie was impressed, the anxiety that should have been Dewey’s melting inside Louie as his stomach continued to turn. This was different then when he’d faced Ma Beagle. He’d been warm with his anger then. Now everything was frozen inside him. Stiff. Moments from fracturing.

“I’ve warned you,” Don told him, “Repeatedly- what would happen if you betrayed me.”

“I don’t recall betraying you. I’m here, am I not?” Dewey said, head tipped to the side and eyes burning like smoking ash.

Louie shivered and he’s been told that he could be intimidating whenever he wanted to but he’s never seen it. Looking at Dewey then and he thinks he got it. If he could look a third as scary as Dewey then it was little wonder so many have commented on it before.

“You chose them though,” Don said, eyes narrowing on Louie, “You’ve always chose them. Even before you knew who _they_ were.”

Dewey shrugged, kept his gaze fierce as he reminded, “You’ve never minded before. What’s changed this time?”

Louie, who prided himself in not being intimidated easily, curled in on himself under the gaze. Ma Beagle had been a frightening lady mostly because she’d been the slums of society and didn’t care. Don Karnage was insane- was known for being violent- and both had kidnapped Louie because of his brothers but it sounds like Don’s had longer to hate Louie.

That didn’t change the fact that he’s stolen his brother, was trying to keep him and Louie wasn’t one to share. Then Don shifted his vision back to Dewey, who didn’t back down, and scoffed.

“I could kill you both if that’s what you desire,” Don reminded.

Dewey’s glare sharpened and when he spoke it was slow, with purpose and dripping with venom, “It had been your idea to go to Duckburg. You had been the one to actively threaten and kidnap them. You don’t get to berate me over this.”

Don reeled back if only slightly, blinking. Louie shivered and he’d grown accustomed to the meekness that came with Huey. Whatever Dewey’s been through it was obvious it’s changed him much differently than it had Huey.

“You’ve grown defiant,” Don said, “That’s why I’ve made the decision that you’re no longer welcome to this team. Goodbye Dewey Duck.”

A hand grabbed Dewey from the back of his neck, hefting him in the air. Louie lunged forward but was held back by a hand on his hoodie.

“No!” Louie screamed as he was drug backwards, “Don Karnage, you’re a coward!”

“And you, little one,” Don said as the door closed, “are dead.”

&.

They didn’t die.

They were dropped on the deck of the ship, Dewey reaching out to help Louie to his feet. He didn’t look grim but he didn’t look excited either. When Louie looked at the other two he realized why.

“Are you two going to jump willingly?” the female pirate asked, “Or are you going to have to be pushed?”

Dewey smirked, darkness hiding underneath his features.

“Remember this when Don demands my head several weeks from now,” Dewey told them as he edged Louie behind him.

The pirates snorted. They ended up jumping.

&.

Dewey had a parachute so they didn’t die and they spent the better part of the next two days wandering in the forest. Louie felt lost the entire time but Dewey walked with purpose- like it wasn’t the first time he’s been thrown from Don’s ship.

The thought made Louie angry though he was grateful for Dewey’s patience, and it was towards the end of the second day that Louie built enough courage to ask, “What did you mean yesterday when you said Don was going to demand your head?”

Dewey shrugged before explained, “Don knew the fall wasn’t going to kill us. One day he’ll wake up and realize what he’s done, and he’ll come for me.”

Louie shifted closer to Dewey as he proclaimed, “He’s not getting you back.”

Dewey smiled, soft and warm, “Thanks Lou,” and Louie didn’t hate the nickname.

&.

Louie wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to be worst: Uncle Donald or Huey. In a weird way it was Huey, who wrapped Louie in his arms and stared wide eyed and unsure at Dewey over his head. Dewey smirked at him as he moved inside, greeted by Uncle Donald.

“Hey Uncle Donald,” Dewey said, awkward and uncomfortable.

Uncle Donald didn’t speak. He just drew him to his chest with a muffled sob and held him there and Louie recognized the look he shared with Scrooge. It was the same way he had when Louie brought Huey home the first time.

They were going to keep Dewey this time.

Louie burrowed his head in Huey’s chest and smiled.


End file.
